Sweet Undoing
by Lift the Wings
Summary: I've known the MacManus brothers for nearly a year now and, if you were to tell me then that they were the Saints, I'd laugh in your face and call you a fool. As it was, I found myself somewhat unwillingly dragged into the chaos of their new career.
1. Prologue

I know, another story? Yes, yes, but I adore this movie and couldn't stop the plots! If they made another one, I would so want to be in it… ;D I can't decide which one I like better, so you'll have to let me know what the romance should be. Either Conner/OC, Murphy/OC or Conner/OC/Murph… teehee!

Disclaimer: I have absolutely no claims to this movie, just the story and my character! Alas…

Prologue

The rain poured endlessly from the gray clouds above, soaking my spiky, chestnut hair and my warm, woolen pea coat. With my collar turned up, I hunkered down, burrowing myself in the coat as best I could, trekking hurriedly through the empty streets of South Boston. It was almost seven, the sun having already dropped below the horizon, and cold, but the distance was too short for my car and normally walking wasn't a problem.

Of course, I hadn't known it was raining until I stepped outside…

Wishing I had an umbrella – or at least a freaking hat, I grumbled furiously under my breath, "Really, Granda… ya _needed_ me ta come down ta th' pub t'night? Of course, my only day off an' he needs me ta fill in…"

Granda – or the old fuckin' bastard, as I was so affectionately calling him in my mind – owned McGinty's, probably the smallest and least frequented Irish pubs in the area. Of course, by that, I meant it still had dozens of loyal, rowdy patrons, but it was more low-key than the ones in North Boston. Probably why everyone loved it so much; that, and my grandfather. The old Irishman had Tourette's, the poor fool, and he was teased for it, but no one meant any harm by it and he took it all with a grain of salt. He was sweet and would do anything for his boys, something that I'm sure came in handy for them all on more than one occasion.

To add to my misfortune, it seemed, a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky and the rain began pounding the streets – and me – in buckets. Ignoring the heels on my feet, I set off at a jog, squealing and growling as I went. Carefully hopping over puddles and potholes, I prayed my heels would withstand the pounding of my feet until I could make it to the warm, cozy pub.

"Hey, where you off to, girl?"

_Like I wasn't having a shitty enough night,_ I groaned, glancing over my shoulder and shooting what I hoped was a menacing enough scowl at the greasy, bedraggled man trailing after me. A bottle of whiskey hung loosely in one hand, his thick, graying beard brushing at his chest; he squinted at me through the driving rain, his eyes red-rimmed and bleary.

How long had _he _been drinking, I had to wonder…

_An' Saint Patty's Day isn't even 'til t'morrow,_ I let out a disbelieving laugh, rolling my eyes upward only to have a raindrop hit me square in the eye.

"Nowhere _you_ need ta be goin'," I informed him as he continued to tail me, lacing as much venom as I could into my light, Irish lilt, "go back home, old man; drink yerself sick an' leave me be…"

"Oh, c'mon, bitch," he slurred, beckoning me toward him, pointing _temptingly_ at his crotch, "you know you want me… I can make you see stars…"

"Th' only way you could make me see stars is if ya hit me over the head with that bottle," I called over the pounding rain, never breaking my stride as I ducked around a corner. There was no way to lose him, not so close to the pub, so I could only beam as I ran straight into the chest of a tall, lean Irishman, his hair spiked upward in the front and a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

"Hey, there, lass… I thought ya had t'night…"

I cut him off quickly, plucking the cigarette from his lips and yanking him down to my level, crushing my mouth to his. He stiffened against me, a question muffled against my mouth, and I pulled away from him, muttering swiftly, "Gimme a hand, wouldja?"

He peered past me, to where the hobo had just strolled into view, and a grin graced his thin, handsome face; he made a show of hooking an arm around my waist and crushing me to his chest. He cupped a hand around the back of my neck and tilted his head, capturing my lips once more, the corners of his mouth curving upward in amusement.

He tasted like a mixture of smoke and alcohol – not surprising, given that he and his brother smoked like they drank and drank like they breathed – but it wasn't altogether unpleasant. As the man groaned and cursed at the Irishman, he pulled back, a frown puckering his soft lips and growled, "Well get outta here, ya drunken pervert! Watchin' me an' my lass… I've a mind ta teach ya a lesson!"

Stifling a grin, I glanced over my shoulder and watched the man stalk off into the rain, taking a hearty swig from his bottle and vanishing from sight.

Running a hand through my short, dampened locks, I grinned up at Conner, "Thanks; I had th' feelin' he'd come in an' bother me all night…"

"Speakin' o' that," he replied, his dark brows high on his forehead as his chocolate eyes danced in amusement, "ya cut me off – not unpleasantly, mind ya – b'fore I could ask… What're ya doin' here? I thought ya had th' night off…"

"Aye, well, _Doc_ lost another bartender an' needed me ta cover," I noted, rolling my wide, sepia eyes good-naturedly, "so, whaddaya know? Ya get ta see my pretty face all night…"

"Ah, I'd never mind that," he replied, offering me a charming grin and giving my petite form a tight squeeze, "can't say that I won't run my mouth off about what happened _here_…"

"Ah, I'd prefer it if ya didn't mention that, Conn, love," I grinned sheepishly, extracting myself from his grasp and hurrying for the door, "might not wanna make th' other lads jealous, ya know. How many bar fights ya been in th' last month alone?"

"Not as many as ya'd think," he replied cheerfully, stuffing his fists into his jackets and retrieving another cigarette and his lighter, "see ya inside, love…"

Laughing lightly to myself, I yanked the door open, the acrid scent of stale smoke and whiskey engulfing my senses. My entrance was met with a chorus of cheers – believe it or not, I was a favorite of the usual customers; maybe it was because I could keep up with them, either drinking or teasing, it didn't matter.

Murphy and Rocco leapt from their stools, their shot glasses raised as I made my way further into the bar.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Roc laughed, his broad grin contagious as he wrapped his arms around me and lifted me from the ground, spinning me slightly, "a drowned rat…"

"Hey!" I protested, shoving his shoulder roughly when he sat me back down, "I resent that… A drowned rat is nothin' ta laugh about; I had this sweet little mouse when I was little…"

"Don't mind him," Murphy grinned, downing his shot and slinging an arm over my shoulder, ruffling my hair and earning a warning scowl from me – the boys loved messing with my hair, short as it was, and had learned rather quickly to duck out of the way once they touched it, "what're you doin' here, Finn?"

"I c-c-c-called her in," my granda commented, shuffling around the bar and grinning warmly at me before bellowing, "_fuck! Ass!_"

By now, I was used to his sudden, furious exclamations, never once flinching as bellowed his curses. The boys simply grinned at me, Murphy's arm slipping from my shoulders as he patted Doc on the shoulder, "Why'd ya do that? As you can see -," he shot me a smirk, "she clearly needs her beauty sleep…"

"Watch yerself, Murphy MacManus," I jerked a threatening finger in his direction, pecking Granda's cheek and shooting the twin a wink, "might find somethin' unpleasant in yer next shot…"

"G-g-go an' get yerself c-c-cleaned up, love," Granda shoved me toward the bathroom, through the throngs of incredibly drunk patrons, "R-R-Rocco, stop starin' at her a-a-a… _Fuck! Ass!_"

As Roc spouted off excuse after excuse, I laughed and shoved the bathroom door open. It was just as dark and dingy as the rest of the bar, the only place completely free from smoke in the entire joint. It was clear that there weren't a lot of women that frequented the bar; dust lined the countertops and there was only a single stall in the room.

Still, there was a cute little vase beside the sink, the only girly thing in McGinty's. There wasn't even a tampon machine, that's how many women showed up in the place.

Shrugging my coat off, I tossed it onto the counter and retrieved a few paper towels. Running them through my hair, I did my best to dry out my locks and spiked them back up, leaving only a few short, bangs on my forehead. Dabbing at my face, I fixed up my makeup, tracing the sapphire eyeliner along my lids and painting some gloss onto my lips. My clothes remained unaffected by the rain, except my gray leggings and my heels. They were strappy things, my sparkling emerald nails exposed and damp.

Wiping them down, too, I gave myself one last glance in the mirror. The heels gave me a little more height, but now I only reached five three; ah, genetics. My ma had been tiny, too… My dress was still dry, thankfully; it was a white number, sleeveless and modestly cut with a thick, black belt wrapped around my waist. Grinning to myself, I ran a hand through my hair, grabbing my coat and returning to the bar. Conner had returned, one arm draped over his brother's shoulder as he raised his beer and continued, "…an' ya know what she did? She says 'gimme a hand, wouldja?' an' plants one on me…"

The crowd roared and Jimmy, the local butcher, slapped me hard on the back as I passed, my face flushing an unattractive shade of red. Of course, I shouldn't have been surprised that Conner wanted to brag; he was the louder MacManus, the one who did just about anything to make you laugh.

Murphy grinned, shaking his head and exclaiming over the rowdy roar of the crowd, "No way, Conn… I don't believe it!"

"Ask her yerself, then!" Conner nudged him, nearly shoving him from his stool and pointing wildly toward me. Murphy's hazy cerulean eyes met mine from across the bar and bellowed, "Finn! Why th' _fuck_ would ya kiss him? Shoulda just taken th' hobo!"

"Yeah, well now I wish I would have," I jeered, shoving Conner in the side as I passed, grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking him down, "I thought I told ya not ta say anything?"

"Sorry, love," he grinned, his dark eyes glistening in the dim light, "can ya blame me? It is _you_ we're talkin' about… You know how long Rocco's been tryin' ta get in yer pants?"

"Hey, fuckwad, what the hell, man?" Rocco threw his hands up, his beer flying through the air and splattering across the counter. He groaned, running a hand over his face and grimacing, scowling furiously at the Irishman, "You weren't supposed ta mention that!"

"You know Conner just runs his mouth when he's drunk," I replied, throwing my arms around Rocco's neck from behind, pecking his cheek loudly and tugging at his wild, mahogany locks, "but I can promise ya yer not gettin' in my pants, Roc…"

As the others at the bar jeered, I jogged around the counter and poured myself and the boys a round of shots. Lifting my glass, I cheered, "Happy Saint Patty's Day Eve!"

A round of cheers echoed through the bar and I tapped my glass against Murph's, earning a wink from the darker twin, before knocking it back. Grinning broadly, I set about filling orders; I may have complained about coming in on my night off, but I probably would have ended up coming in anyway. McGinty's was my second home, the patrons – namely Conner, Murphy, and Rocco – were my second family.

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So, what'd ya think? Please lemme know =D

Oh, PS, everyone should check out the ebook 'Running' on Amazon by Cara McKay – aka me! I'd definitely appreciate it; I'm trying to self-publish and actually take my writing somewhere =D


	2. Older Twin

A/N: Thanks for the great reviews so far! I do love this movie and I'm glad you love the story so far! =D

Disclaimer: I don't own _the Boondock Saints_ unfortunately =( I'd _love_ owning the boys ;D

Chapter One: Older Twin

_A round of cheers echoed through the bar and I tapped my glass against Murph's, earning a wink from the darker twin, before knocking it back. Grinning broadly, I set about filling orders; I may have complained about coming in on my night off, but I probably would have ended up coming in anyway. McGinty's was my second home, the patrons – namely Conner, Murphy, and Rocco – were my second family. _

The night flew by like it usually did; Rocco's constant flirtation – the more he drank, the more he tried to touch, but Conn and Murph did an excellent job keeping him at bay – while the twins drank and laughed and joked like always. Granda told stories and gave advice – not that it made any kind of sense; he always mixed up his proverbs and had the rest of us laughing and snorting into our drinks.

By the time everyone began filtering out of the pub, it was nearly three in the morning. I was dead tired, my eyelids drooping as I wiped down the bar, but there were still a few patrons lingering in their stools. My MacManus boys included.

"Lads, why don't ya just go home?" I queried, exhaustion seeping into my tone, dropping the rag and propping my chin up on my fist, "don'tcha have work in th' mornin'? Ya know? That meat's not gonna pack itself…"

Conner, his eyes shifting slowly toward his brother, queried sluggishly, his tone slurred, "Think she's tryin' ta get rid of us?"

Murphy pursed his lips and trailed his tired, cerulean eyes along my form, squinting when he reached my face as though trying to see if it was written there, "Sounds like it… Thought ya liked us, Finn…"

"Not when yer interruptin' my beauty sleep," I replied dryly, shoving myself away from the bar as my head threatened to drop then and there, "didn'tcha say I needed it, Murph?"

"Nah," he waved his hand innocently, shaking his head adamantly as he lit up another cigarette; I swear, I think they spent all their money here and on cartons of those, "I never said that… I think it was Roc…"

He patted the Italian's back, shaking his shoulder roughly; he didn't stir from his drunken stupor – he had passed out about an hour ago, much to the brothers' amusement. I can't tell you how much shit they put in his hair and down the back of his shirt, but every time they shot me a grin and a wink, earning a laugh from me.

"Hm, right," I rolled my eyes upward, slipping around the bar and grabbing Murph's arm. Rather easily, I pulled him from the stool (he was too drunk to put up much resistance), shoving him toward the door; he wrapped an arm around my waist and dropped his forehead onto my shoulder, "Don't make us leave, Finn…"

Conner stumbled off of his stool and wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, "Aye, Finn; we just wanna stay here an' drink with ya…"

"Don't t-t-try an' s-s-s… _fuck! Ass!_" Granda shuffled into the bar, shooing them away from me, "sweet talk her… an' g-g-get him outta h-h-h… _fuck!_"

Disentangling myself from the MacManus twins – it wasn't easy, trust me, I patted Murphy's cheek, grinning broadly, "Watch this…" Creeping up behind Rocco, I wrapped my arms around his waist and muttered softly, "Rocco?"

The brothers grinned broadly, Conner's arms folded across his chest while Murphy swayed in his spot, as Rocco remained motionless on his stool. I called his name a few more times, dropping my tone each time and resting my chin on his back.

Finally, he stirred somewhat, letting out an irritated, "What?"

"C'mon, Roc; I thought we had a good time," I muttered slyly, giving his torso a light squeeze, "didn't we? All that whipped cream an' chocolate syrup…" Shooting the drunken brothers a silencing scowl as they chuckled and nudged each other like two teenage boys, I continued teasing Roc until he shot up from the bar, sliding from the stool and staring up at me with wide, surprised eyes.

Conner and Murphy howled, propping themselves up against each other, as Rocco looked between the three of us, sputtering wildly. His dark eyes met mine and he frowned, his brows settled low on his forehead as he growled, "Are you _fucking_ kidding me, Finn?" He nearly slammed his fists on the ground, whining, "Why'd you do that to me?"

Conner bounced up to his friend and hauled him to his feet, patting his chest and querying, aghast, "Ya really thought somethin' like that would happen? C'mon, Rocco; not a chance…"

"Yeah, man," Murphy grinned mockingly, slinging an arm around my waist and ruffling up my hair; at this point, I was too tired to care. He gave my waist a light squeeze and noted conversationally, "Nice touch with th' whipped cream, love… Think I'll have some nice dreams t'night…"

Shoving him away from me, I blushed and rolled my eyes, "Yer too drunk… Now let me lock up an' you can walk me home…"

He grinned slightly, bowing low, losing his balance only slightly. Still bent over, he lifted his head, his deep, blue eyes glistening as he noted, his tone far too slurred to be gallant, "Yer wish is my command, love."

"Wait, what are we grantin' her?" Conner questioned suddenly, leaving Roc to sway in his spot as he jogged up to me, his eyes bright, "I want in…"

"Yer walkin' me home," I replied with a laugh, patting his cheek and turning to my grandfather.

He was watching the four of us in amusement before giving me a warm hug, pressing a kiss to my cheek and noting, "H-h-have a good night, l-l-love… M-m-make sure y-y-you… _fuck! Ass!_"

"Doc, I don't think she's capable o' doin' somethin' like that," Conner grinned as Murphy snorted, draping an arm around Roc's neck as the Italian stared around the bar, a somewhat lost expression on his bearded face.

"Shut up, asshole," I laughed good-naturedly, patting my granda's shoulder and informing him brightly, "I'll make sure I'm here on time t'morrow; don't worry…"

He grinned and nodded, giving me a final hug and ushering me toward the door. The boys stumbled after me, the MacManus boys draping an arm around each shoulder and Rocco bringing up the rear. With a final wave, I barely noticed a few guys hanging around the pub, too busy keeping Conner's straying hand at bay.

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At eight o'clock the next night, the pub was filled to the brim with more patrons than usual. I wasn't surprised; it was Saint Patty's Day after all. Dressed in a bright green blouse and a black skirt, I buzzed through the bar and topped off people's drinks.

The boys hadn't come in yet, but they would probably step through the door any minute now. I hadn't seen them since they dragged Roc away from my apartment door, Murphy tipping an imaginary hat and Conner laughing loudly at whatever compliment Roc slurred toward me. They really were amazing boys; they loved to flirt with me, but always knew where to draw the line, and would do sweet little things like walk me home. And I never got tired of watching the two of them together; they bickered like an old married couple and played around like a pair of kids. Add Rocco in there and you got a guaranteed good time.

A cheer ran through the bar and my head snapped up, a bead of sweat trickling down my forehead at the sudden movement. Speak of the devils…

Conner and Murphy strolled through the crowd, clapping a few on the back and calling out a few greetings to those further back. Conner peered out over the crowd and called loudly, "Where's Finn?"

Someone pointed me out as I took a few empty tankards from a table and made for the bar. Conner jogged over to me, his brother hot on his heels, and stated seriously, "Finn, we need ya ta help us settle somethin'…"

"Oh, dear Lord, what is it this time?" I queried, rolling my eyes with a laugh, stretching over the bar to grab a few shot glasses. Someone grabbed my ass and I jumped, my heart leaping to my throat. Spinning, I shot the brothers a dark scowl, looking between the two of them as they pointed innocently at the other. Shaking my head, I simply shot them a prodding glance once again, "So, what is it?"

"We need ya ta give us a look," Conner continued, shooting an amused grin at his brother at having got one over on me yet again.

Brows high on my forehead, I felt my jaw drop as I peered disbelievingly between the two of them, "_What_?"

"Not you givin' us a look at you," Murphy amended easily, a slightly sheepish grin on his face as he rubbed at the back of his neck, "you takin' a look at us…"

My heart dropped to my stomach and I quickly shook my head, bypassing them and taking the glasses to my table. Of course, I wouldn't _mind_ taking a look at the two – they were an incredibly attractive pair – but what the _hell_ were they going on about?

Grinning as the twenty-first birthday party offered me a few bills, I stuffed them into my pocket and headed back for the bar. The twins had taken two of the stools along the bar, Conner spinning enough to grab me as I went to pass, "Okay, so Ma called us this mornin'…"

"How's she doin'?" I grinned broadly, distractedly reaching for another few tankards Granda had set on the bar. Ma MacManus was quite the old woman; she was hilarious, always messing around with the boys and calling me on occasion. Usually it was to come up with ways to trick them – I had to wonder if she used the gun one on them yet…

"Scared the shit outta us," Murphy rolled his eyes upward, taking a long drink of his beer, "had a gun an' tried ta tell us she was gonna shoot herself…"

"Then she _did_ shoot," Conner growled, rubbing at his jaw and shaking his head, "thought she blew her brains out all over th' place…"

Trying to mask a snort, I quirked a brow and queried lightly, innocently, "Oh did she? Sounds like her…"

The twins pinned me with a matching, scrutinizing scowl before Murphy dropped his head to the bar and Conner gaped at me, "_You_ put her up ta this?"

"I can't help it if she calls me lookin' fer good ideas," I replied with a grin, raising my hands helplessly, "so what does this have ta do with anything?"

"Well, we asked her which one is th' oldest," Murphy noted, turning his cheek to the countertop and staring at me.

"And?" I queried curiously; she always teased them, never telling which one was the older of the two. I couldn't believe she'd actually admit it to them after so long; of course, she had told _me_, but I doubted they even knew that.

"Well, she said it was th' one…," Conner trailed off, glancing somewhat sheepishly at Murphy. The darker brother simply shook his head, a silent urge to continue. Wonder if they had a scuffle over which one had to tell _me_ what their ma had said. He dropped his tone and continued, his brows high on his forehead, "Th' one with th' bigger cock…"

Snorting, I let out a loud laugh and queried incredulously, "An' you want me ta take a peek?"

"He suggested it," Murph replied moodily, shooting a dark scowl at his brother, "already saw which one earlier, but…"

"That was after I got kicked in th' balls an' put ice on it!" Conner exclaimed quietly, slapping his twin on the head.

Before they could get into a scuffle, I noted seriously, "That's no excuse, Conn…"

Murphy grinned triumphantly and grabbed the back of his brother's neck, giving him a light shake, "Told ya…"

"Well, I never said yer th' oldest, Murph," I replied with a laugh, folding my arms across my chest, offering him a wink and shrugging, "but I'm really busy an', _much_ as I'd like ta take ya up on yer offer, Table Three needs their drinks…"

Before Conner could offer to drop his drawers – and I had the feeling he would with little prompting, Rocco shoved the door open and bellowed, "Hey, Fuck Ass! Get me a beer!"

Pecking the twins on the cheek as they cheered for Roc, I made for the table, a bright blush on my face. They certainly kept me on my toes, those boys.

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So, what'd ya think? I'm loving it so far, but I'd love to hear your thoughts! And again, I have to keep plugging this; as a new writer, I'm depending on all of you readers out there! I have an ebook on Amazon called "Running". There's a link on my page; it's a romance, fantasy and supernatural as the subgenre. If you like my writing and any of my other stories, please check it out; I'd love to hear your thoughts on it!

Gaia's Child: Thanks so much! Yeah, I didn't really think about that; I'll try to keep her clothes more 90s! But I'm glad you like it :D

Lovely Specter: Haha yeah, I considered it being Conner… I'm so glad you like it! I couldn't keep it bottled up; had to write it! I still haven't decided but I'm going toward Murphy, I think… I adore Norman Reedus =D

Ilovepotions: Thanks!

Tknoir1101: Thank you! Glad you're liking it!

Phantasmal Killer: Thank you! If they ever do seem out of character, please let me know! I hope you like this chapter too!

KrisRiver: here ya go!

Sierra: Thank you! So glad you're liking it!

Little Rin 26: Thank you! I really do appreciate that! I always try to make my characters believable. Oh, sure! I haven't checked it out yet, but I definitely will!

Vareinha: Thank you! I'm so glad you do!


	3. The Russians

AN: So, how are you all enjoying it? I'm liking it quite a bit so far :D Oh, I have a poll on my profile page; who do you want Finn to be with? Conner, Murphy, or both? Also, if you love Norman Reedus and the Walking Dead, you should check out my fic – it's called Chaos and it's Daryl/OC =D

Disclaimer; I don't own _Boondock Saints..._ alas…

Chapter Two: The Russians

_Before Conner could offer to drop his drawers – and I had the feeling he would with little prompting, Rocco shoved the door open and bellowed, "Hey, Fuck Ass! Get me a beer!"_

_Pecking the twins on the cheek as they cheered for Roc, I made for the table, a bright blush on my face. They certainly kept me on my toes, those boys. _

Sidling back up to the bar, I watched as Rocco swept some of the ice from his hair that Granda had thrown at him. It was littering the floor and I made to grab the broom as Conner stared my grandfather down.

"Would somebody please come over here and…"

"_Fuck!_"

"…me up th'…"

"_Ass!_"

I couldn't help but snort, shooting the dirty blond Irishman a scowl over Doc's head. He simply smirked as the others howled and he got himself a face-full of ice. Opting for the rag instead – the bar was sweltering despite the cold outside and the ice had probably already melted, I slipped back around the bar and dropped it behind the MacManus brothers.

Murphy grabbed me around the waist and hoisted me up onto the barstool next to him, jerking a finger in my direction and all but ordering, "Take a break, Finn…"

"Aye, ya work far too hard," Conner grinned, retrieving his beer and setting it in front of me, "sit down an' have some fun with us… Wanna take some shots?"

Tempting as it was to sit – I hadn't been off my feet since I stepped foot in the bar, I sighed heavily and shook my head, "I think there'd be a riot if I stopped servin' drinks, don't you?"

The boys shared an identical frown over my head and, before either could say a word, Roc gathered them in a group hug and I was able to slip away. My feet were killing me, but on Saint Patty's Day, I didn't want to be the one stepping between people and their beer. It'd probably get me killed...

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Sometime around two, the bar had quieted down some. Most of the people had left and I had made a good amount of money, tucking it safely into my purse in the dingy, back room behind the counter. As I slipped back around the counter, I kicked my heels off and hopped onto the stool between Conner and Rocco.

Not too many people were left by then; just the usual group. Everyone still talked and laughed – believe me, if anyone were the life of the party, it was the three I was currently hanging out with – but there wasn't the same rowdy, crowded bar as before.

As Granda shifted a beer in front of me, Conn gave me a onceover, ruffling my hair and noting casually, "Always love lookin' at ya after yer done with yer shift… Yer hair's all mussed up, yer exhausted… looks like ya just got a good…"

"F-f-finish that s-s-sen… _fuck! Ass!_" Granda shook his head, taking a long swig of his own whiskey behind the counter. Still, he shot Conn a threatening glance – not that it really made a difference; Conner wasn't one to be dissuaded by my grandfather – and continued wiping the bar down.

Still, the Irishman winked at me and held out a hand. Beaming, I leaned back against Rocco and gave him one of my feet; the boys had learned a long time ago that the more my feet hurt, the likelier they were to get punched in the face for any minor comments.

Letting out a contented sigh, I tried to peer at Roc and Murphy upside down. They both grinned at me, the latter rolling his eyes and lighting up a cigarette, "So, what? You're some kinda sex slave, Conn? Ya do her feet an' get what…?"

"How can I get in on that?" Roc winked, dropping a loud, wet kiss on my forehead, "cuz, fuck, I'll do your feet if it means I get some…"

"Shut th' hell up, Roc," I rolled my eyes before snapping them shut. Murphy could say whatever he wanted; I'd gotten him to rub my feet on occasion before, but Conn was always the willing one. I think he just thought he might be able to look up my skirt from that vantage. "'Sides, yer too late… We already had sign-ups last week…"

The boys laughed loudly, the MacManuses shoving their Italian friend good-naturedly as he groaned and swore. Still, he grinned and moved on to some topic about faggots or something like that.

I swear, I think I was the most sober out of the group, even good ol' Doc – he had probably downed his seventh or eighth whiskey, his Tourette's and trembling more pronounced than usual. Still, everyone was having a good time and, as I took another swig of my own beer, I found myself relaxing for the first time all night.

Suddenly, Granda sighed and caught everyone's attention. The seriousness in his sad, dark eyes had me panicking suddenly, glancing between Conner and Rocco nervously. He wrung the rag in his hands and somberly informed us that the bar would be closing. Apparently the Russian mafia had been muscling in on him, forcing all of the other businesses in the area to shut down so they could build or do whatever it was they were planning on. With a few more 'fucks' and 'asses' than usual, he threw his rag down, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

My heart dropped to my stomach and I gaped up at him. Why hadn't he said anything to me? I know I didn't make a lot of money at the bar, but what I had I certainly would have given him. Had they been asking for payments and he just couldn't make them anymore? I was pretty sure that's how it worked, but I couldn't be sure. It hurt that he hadn't said anything to me about it; maybe if he would have, we could have done something about it.

After a moment or two of silence, Roc commented, "Let me talk to my boss…"

Conner and Murphy immediately began protesting, along with the others lining the bar, and I commented seriously, "Don't even, Roc… Those assholes won't do a damn thing except take th' bar themselves…"

Granda added on that he didn't want anyone else to know, tacking on one of his infamous quips at the end; "P-p-people in glass houses… s-s-sink ships…"

Groaning, I shoved myself upright in my seat, nudging Conner in thanks and facing the bar. Before I could correct him, Roc sighed and downed his beer, "Y'know, Doc, I gotta get you, like, a proverb book or somethin'… This mix-n-match shit's gotta go…"

At his confused frown, Conn propped his folded arms on the bar and grinned, "A p-penny saved is worth two in th' bush…"

"Sounds dirty," I commented dryly, retrieving another beer from behind the counter.

"Don't c-cross th' road if ya can't get outta th' kitchen," Murph added, raising his beer in my direction.

The bar burst into laughter and I rolled my eyes, grinning to myself. Patting my grandfather's trembling hand, I offered him a sympathetic smile, "Sorry, Granda, but they're right… Don't think I know what 'all that glitters gathers no moss'…"

Murphy snorted, spraying his beer over the countertop and Granda swatted his rag at him, nearly beating him over the head. The darker twin simply raised his hands, chuckling and trying to dodge the towel, before shooting me a mischievous grin.

"I like that one," he stated, wiping his mouth on his sleeve as Roc grinned and shoved him in the arm. Conn threw out some more of Granda's classics, before the door slammed open and a few massive men came strolling through.

The first, obviously the leader, was tall and bald, a dark goatee around his thick jowls. His accent was thick and I had been right in assuming they were a few of the Russian mob members that Granda was talking about. He ran his dark eyes, disinterest heavy in them, and noted firmly, "I am Ivan Chekov. You will be closing now."

Everyone fell silent, regarding the group, before Murph slung his arm around Roc's neck and grinned, "Well this here's McCoy… We find a Spock and we got ourselves an away team…"

I couldn't help but laugh along with the others; leave it to one of the MacManuses to make some smartass remark to a bunch of mafia guys. Ivan, fit to burst, went off on some tangent about proving Irish stereotypes – my hackles rose on that one – and ordered everyone to leave.

As soon as Granda started, I knew he'd make a fool out of himself. He didn't disappoint, growling, "Why don't you make like a tree an' get the _fuck_ outta here?"

"Think I like that one th' best," I stated, offering him a slight grin and running a hand through my hair, regarding the Russians cautiously. They didn't seem all too amused at Granda's _threat_, Ivan narrowing his dark, beady eyes furiously. One of the other goons, the one on the right, gave me a rather thorough once over and said something to his comrades. I, being the ignorant Irishwoman, apparently, that I was, had no idea what he'd said, but judging by the grins on their faces and the fury on Conn's and Murph's, I had to assume it wasn't all that pleasant.

Still, Conn tried to play it off, casting my Granda a glance, his warm, dark eyes shifting to me for a moment, "Calm down, Doc. I'm sure they're reasonable fellows…" He and Murph grabbed some alcohol – everyone's favorite thing in this bar – and raised them, offering them to the Russians, "Ya know he's got 'til th' end of th' week… Ya don't have ta be hardasses, do ya?"

"Yeah, it's Saint Patty's Day," Murph grinned, chuckling slightly and casting me a wink, "everyone's Irish tonight. Why don't ya pull up a chair an' have a drink with us?"

After a few more insulting comments – and a wink from the fat one by his side in my direction – he slammed the glasses from the boys hands and jerked a meaty finger at the pair, "This is no game! If you will not go, we will make you go."

The twins exchanged a knowing glance before Conner, leave it to Conner, tried one last time to keep the peace, "If yer lookin' fer a fight, you can see that you're outnumbered. Believe me when I say Finn's got a nasty south-paw… We're tryin' ta be civil here, so I suggest you take our offer…"

"I make the offers, asshole," Ivan growled, "Nicola, take the girl and get her to the car. We will take care of this scum."

Brows high on my forehead, I nearly scrambled onto the countertop as the one who had been eyeing me like, well, whatever Russians liked to eat, started forward. Conner placed himself between us and, as I reached for something to beat the Russian over the head with, Roc had to open his big mouth, making a, in my opinion, a well-deserved crack at Ivan's mother.

Ivan slammed his fist into Roc's mouth before he could finish his sentence. Immediately, the boys stiffened as a few of the others grabbed Roc before he hit the ground. Their faces set, and made a few furious comments in fluent Russian.

Grinning to myself, I watched Ivan's brows raise, keeping my gaze partially on the creepy ass Russian on the other side of Conner. Patting the Irishman on the back, I shot him and Murph a grin, "Dunno whatcha said but if it had anythin' ta do with kickin' their asses, I say go for it…"

They shared another one of their knowing glances, before the twins downed their shots and dropped to the ground, simultaneously punching Ivan. Hard.

After that, it was total chaos. I grabbed a heavy glass tankard and slammed it over the head of the one coming at me. It slowed him down, blood immediately dripping from his forehead, but didn't stop him completely. On top of the bar now, I reached for one of the nozzles and sprayed some good ol' Sam Adams into his face, reaching with my free hand for something else to beat him with. He slipped in the puddle forming at his feet, growling and rubbing at his eyes.

When he finally got himself upright, I had one of the heavy, metal trays in hand and added to the welt already forming on the top of his head. He fell to the ground and I hopped off of the bar, my heart racing, hoisting up one of the stools and beating him down.

Once I was sure he wasn't going to be getting up any time soon, I turned my attention to the others. Conn held a few of the guys back as Murph took on the other Russian himself. He had been plowed into one of the booths and my heart caught in my throat, eyes wide as I called, "C'mon, Murphy!"

He grabbed a few wine bottles from behind him and brought them down over the Russian's head, slamming himself into the bigger man and shoving him away. When he remained motionless, we all cheered; I jumped at the darker twin and threw my arms around his neck, ruffling his hair and avoiding the shattered glass beneath my bare feet, "Nice shot, Murph."

He winked as Conner wrapped his arms around the pair of us and beamed, "Nicely done, lad!" He glanced over at the bar, where my guy was bleeding out into the beer on the floor, his brows darting high on his forehead as he grinned devilishly at me, "And not so bad yerself, my wild Irish rose…"

Snorting, I disentangled myself from the pair, hopping carefully over the broken glass, and made my way to the bar. The others had Chekov on the ground, beating him with whatever they could find, and Granda waved his rag, punching his fists at the air.

Climbing onto a stool, I whistled and fisted my hands on my hips, "What th' hell should we do with him?"

Conner put a finger to his chin in thought, before beaming and gesturing to a few of the lads surrounding Ivan, "Tie 'im ta th' table…"

It took a lot of maneuvering to hoist the beefy Russian onto the pool table, but, once that was done, he was tied down, face down, and wriggling for all he was worth. The others cheered as Roc punched him and Murph strolled up to me as I dropped myself, cross-legged, onto the bar. He rested his fists on the counter on either side of me, staring up at me with a smirk, his dark, cerulean eyes gleaming, "Got anymore beer back there?"

Quirking a brow, I reached behind me, yanking a massive bottle of Hennessey up and offering it to him. Lips curled in slight amusement, I queried dryly, "I take it y'aren't gonna be drinkin' that?"

He shook his head, peering over at Conn who simply shot the pair of us an excited smirk. Suddenly, Murph hooked a hand around the back of my neck, yanking me toward him and planting his lips firmly against mine. Before I could comprehend it – or even react in any way – he pulled back, snorting and noting, "Can't give Conn anything ya wouldn't give me…"

Without another word, he jogged over to the pool table, handing the bottle to his brother, who hastily poured it out over Chekov's ass. Lighting himself a cigarette, the dark-eyed twin dropped it onto the Russian, instantly setting his massive ass on fire.

Cheering, I laughed and shot my granda a wink, "Drinks an' a show… We should do this every night!"

BSBSBSBSBS

So, what'd ya think? I hope you enjoyed it! Please check out that poll on my profile and also, if you could, please check out my new ebook on Amazon! It'd be awesome =D If you like my writing, I promise you'll like that =D

Lovely Specter: Haha thanks! I'm so glad you're liking it so far; I love getting your reviews! I haven't quite decided; I wanted some input from everyone. Seems to be mostly either all three or just her and Murph…

Phantasmal Killer: Thanks! Aw I was hoping everyone would! I want them to seem close, like them and Rocco… Hope you like this chapter too!

DiaDeLosMuertos: Thanks! I'm considering it; those are my two options I really want. Either the three – cuz as much as I love Murphy, I still love Conner too! – or just Murph and Finn. I love writing these three =D

WhisperInTheRain: Thank ya!

LittleRin26: I'm definitely gonna read your stuff! I never answered you the other day, but I'll check out your Walking Dead on your blog =D I really appreciate what you said in the other message, about the great writing; I definitely try! That's what I plan on doing, if I can ever get more people to start buying my ebook lol… I want to read your Twilight story too!

Dalonega Noquisi: Haha I love Murphy! You should vote on my poll! ;D


	4. Take Me Home

Wow, sorry it's taken so long to update! I've been slaving away at work, seriously, so this is the first time in a while I can kick up my feet! So, on with the story :D

Disclaimer: If I owned the MacManuses, oooohhh what a time…

Chapter Three: Take Me Home

_Without another word, he jogged over to the pool table, handing the bottle to his brother, who hastily poured it out over Chekov's ass. Lighting himself a cigarette, the dark-eyed twin dropped it onto the Russian, instantly setting his massive ass on fire. _

_Cheering, I laughed and shot my granda a wink, "Drinks an' a show… We should do this every night!"_

By the time the party was over, all three Russians were hauled from the bar – that way Granda wouldn't be implicated in anything on the off chance police became involved (or worse, the rest of the mafia) – and the brothers promised to help clean the bar before Granda opened in the morning. Of course, Doc, being the awesome old coot that he was, just waved a hand, gave each lad a pat on the shoulder, and assured them that everything was fine.

When we made to leave, though, he caught my arm and pulled me aside, his mouth twitching downward as apprehension covered his face, "Love, p-p-promise me ya won't w-w-walk home by… _fuck! Ass!_ By yer-yerself, aye? I don't w-w-wanna see anyth-thin' happen ta ya. _Fuck!_"

Before I could reply, the brothers draped their arms over my shoulders, Murphy resting his chin on my shoulder and Connor pressing his face to my temple. Almost instinctively, my arms wrapped around each lads' waist and I offered Granda a warm smile, "I'm sure th' boys won't let me head on home by myself."

"Course not!" Connor exclaimed, practically offended by the idea, though the smirk tugging at the corner of his attractive mouth left me partially confused, partially concerned. While I knew he'd never try anything with me, he _had _threatened to drop his drawers when he was far _less_ drunk, hadn't he?

"C'mon, Doc, you know us," Murphy assured him, sending me a sidelong glance, amusement dancing in his penetrating ocean eyes, "we'd never let anythin' happen ta Finn, not while we had anythin' ta say about it…"

"It's not that I don't think ya c-c-can't hold yer own, love," Granda assured me, cupping my face in his trembling hands and placing a kiss on my forehead, "I just d-d-don't like th' idea o' those Russians b-bein' out there… _Ass! Fuck!_"

"It's fine," I replied, covering his hands with my own and pressing a kiss to his cheek, "anyway, it's not like th' guys don't walk me home anyway… I'll call ya when we get there if it makes ya feel any better…"

"Aye," he nodded, giving the MacManus brothers both a stern glance, "an' h-h-hands ta yerselves, boys. I m-m-mean it…"

"Swear on Murph's life, Doc," Connor vowed, though, even as he spoke, his hand slipped down and gathered a handful of ass in his palm. My nostrils flared as I fought the urge to punch him, but I didn't want to let Granda in on his little move, did I? So I pinched him hard in the side, earning a flinch from the blond twin and a huffing laugh from the darker one.

"So, what? This means I'm as good as fucked, right?" Murphy questioned low in my ear, earning a slight shudder from me despite my smirk. Nodding solemnly, I gave him a quick wink and returned my attention to my granda.

"See ya t'morrow?" I queried softly, tilting my head to one side, ramming Connor's jaw a little harder than he would have liked in retaliation for the ass-grabbing.

"Nah, take th' day off, love," Granda waved once more, the towel trembling in his hands, "t'night's b-b-been rough."

Nodding in thanks, I gave him another soft smile, "See ya then, Granda. Love ya."

He simply offered me a warm, somewhat hazy smile, before turning back to the bar and dropping his rag. He followed me and the brothers to the door, snapping at them when they both went for my ass again. The twins chuckled to themselves as we disappeared into the darkness, the decisive click of the lock behind us resonating through the silent air around us.

"So, love, I'm in agreement with yer granda," Connor noted seriously, though, as he lit himself a cigarette and tucked it between his lips, I noticed in the burning embers that there was more than a little mischief in his dark eyes, "t'night's been rough. Whataya say ta stayin' with us t'night?"

Gaping up at him, I missed my chance at slapping the back of his head; Murphy had beaten me to it, growling harshly, "Conn, man, what th' fuck?"

Cursing, Connor rubbed the back of his head, shooting a murderous, accusatory glance over the top of my head, "I didn't mean it like that, Murph. Though, can't say I'd mind you warmin' my bed, Finn…"

"Get ta th' point, Conn, b'fore yer brother has a heart attack," I teased, though I had to admit, my face had warmed considerably and I had already been more than conscious of the boys' arms around my petite frame.

"I just meant I don't feel like walkin' all th' way ta yer apartment, Christ," Connor replied hurriedly, moodily, his lip curling in an agitated sneer as he muttered, "fuckin' hell… Get jumped fer every little thing…"

Scoffing, I glanced up at Murphy, who simply shrugged a shoulder; it was too dark to read the emotions flicking through his deep gaze, but I didn't manage to miss the bags beneath his eyes. Connor's, too.

Rolling my eyes upward in feigned exasperation, I drawled, "I suppose it wouldn't hurt. Just don't let Granda know about it or he'll skin ya both an' hang yer heads over th' fireplace…"

Murph's nose wrinkled in disgust and he shook his head as Connor laughed, "Christ, Finn… Spit that one right out; how often ya thought about us hangin' over yer fireplace?"

"Thought's crossed my mind a time or two," I teased, pulling them closer to me as we stumbled through the darkness, reveling in their warmth, "Christ, th' two o' you're like furnaces. Mind if I keep ya 'til summer comes?"

"Keep us as long as ya like, Finn; we don't mind, do we, brother?" Connor questioned, a smug smirk on his handsome face as he shoved the creaky, rotting door open to their apartment building. It was sad that no one ever bothered to lock the place up; there wasn't anything of any real value in the entire place, according to Murphy. If someone wanted to break in, it was only for a place to stay the night.

"Can't say that we do, brother," Murph agreed, tugging at my short locks and shooting me a lopsided grin.

Laughing slightly, I pulled away from them, making my way through the cramped, narrow halls and up a few flights of rickety old stairs. Thank the Lord that the walls were made of brick or the whole place would have come crashing down years ago.

"Ah, she already knows th' way ta our beds, Conn," Murph teased; I turned, brows high on my forehead and surprise etched on my face – when it came to teasing me about sex, it was almost always Connor. He didn't seem to mind in the slightest whether or not his comments were dirty as sin; he just liked to see the flush on my face or the shock in my eyes. Murphy, however, was a lot less open with that kind of thing; sure he flirted with me, joked about things like that – he was a guy, of course he would – but usually he left that to his brother. It was probably just the alcohol talking, but that kiss earlier…

Shaking my head, I allowed a startled, yet smug smirk grace my face, "Hm, you two are bunkin' t'gether right? You'll both be gentlemen an' give me one o' th' beds?"

The twins shared an eerily similar glance, the corners of their mouths tugging upward in unspoken amusement, before Connor lifted a shoulder and noted casually, "Dunno. We could just make ya take th' couch…"

"Ah, you wouldn't do that ta me," I cried out in mock pain, a hand to my heard as he grinned and slipped around me, shoving the door to their pitiful apartment open, "you love me too much ta make me sleep on th' couch…"

"Aye, I suppose yer right," Connor rolled his eyes dramatically as the pair of them took off their rosaries and hung them up just inside the door.

Murphy kicked the door shut and sauntered over to the center of the room, where two mattresses lay bare on the floor. Removing a cigarette from behind his ear, he used a booted foot to kick the mattresses together, tugging his shirt off in the process.

Well, who was I to turn away? It's not like I saw the boys improperly dressed on a daily basis, now was it? Come to think of it, I couldn't recall a time I'd ever seen them like that.

It was a damn shame…

Behind me, I could hear Connor tug his own shirt off, brushing past me as he kicked off his boots. I tried not to gape at the brothers, but _damn_… Both were toned quite nicely, their waists slim and their arms muscular, though they hid those muscles with ratty, blue bathrobes. They dropped themselves onto the mattresses and I felt a warmth spread through my entire body, on edge now that I was alone with them.

Connor snuffed his cigarette out on the floor and glanced curiously up at me, a hint of mischief on his face as he surveyed my somewhat nervous form, "Mind if I take these off?" He gestured to his jeans, "They're not fun ta sleep in…"

Murphy simply snorted and shook his head, shimmying out of his own jeans and tossing them with his shirt on the other side of the mattress. Swallowing thickly, I shrugged, unable to form anything close to comprehensible. Connor didn't bother to hide his grin as he followed in his brother's stride and discarded his jeans carelessly at the end of the bed.

My nostrils flared as my heart pounded in my chest. Staring down at the brothers, both in nothing but their boxers and flimsy robes, I cursed myself for not thinking this through. There had never been a doubt in my mind that these men were more than a little attractive, but now that they were staring up at me, near identical smirks on their faces, I found myself a little more than overwhelmed.

They both sensed my discomfort, sharing a look before Murphy hauled himself to his feet and made his way back over to me. He tucked a finger beneath my chin and offered me a rather reassuring smirk, "C'mon, Finn; we were teasin' ya about th' couch."

I offered him a slightly sheepish smile and allowed him to lead me over to the mattresses; I think I would have rather taken the couch at that point. It'd be far safer, anyway.

Still, I took off my heels and sighed, suddenly dead on my feet. The boys seemed to be the same way; while I knew they would probably tease me later about this, they weren't looking for anything other than a good night's sleep.

Murph practically threw himself onto the mattress as I sat down near the end, folding his arms behind his head and glancing over at Connor, amusement etched across his handsome face.

"Shut up, Murph," I muttered, a warning lacing my light tone. They had left a space between the two of them, so I could only assume they wanted me between them. A thrill ran through me and I couldn't help but bite my lip as I crawled up to the center of the two mattresses.

"I didn't say anythin'," he replied innocently. Connor snorted and rolled onto his side, staring up at me with the smallest of smirks, gesturing for me to lie down.

Glancing up at the ceiling in a 'Lord save me' kind of way, I complied and exhaled slowly, exhaustion seeping through me. Murphy tucked a pillow beneath my head, though it was Connor who apologized, "Sorry we don't have really have any blankets, love. We asked yer granda ta throw 'em in th' wash an' he hasn't given 'em back yet."

"It's fine," I replied, though I could already feel my nose growing cold; their apartment wasn't really insulated and I doubted the heater had much life left in it. I had no idea how they slept in their boxers, but I was already cold.

As if reading my mind, Connor wrapped an arm around my waist, startling me as he turned me onto my side and dragged me to his chest. Tucking me into his warm, lithe body, he buried his nose into my hair, inhaling deeply, "No, it's not. I'll keep ya warm, though, love."

As my face flushed and I fished for an answer, Murphy grumbled low under his breath and slid closer to the pair of us, grabbing the hand that wasn't already tucked under the pillow and interlocking our fingers. He took our intertwined hands and shoved them under his own pillow, his face inches from mine as he eased himself closer. He quirked a brow and rested his forehead against my own, "So will I…"

"You just can't let yer brother outdo you, can you?" I blurted out, allowing a small smile to cross my face as they let out sleepy chuckles.

"No, I s'pose I can't," he replied, kissing my forehead as Connor pressed his lips to the nape of my neck, "get some sleep, Finn."

Well, I was good and warm now…

BSBSBSBSBSBSBSBS

Humming lightly, I inhaled slowly, my nose pressed against something warm and soft. Blinking in the near blinding morning light, I stared across Murphy's chest. He was on his back, his head turned toward me as I lay, one arm across his stomach and my face resting in the crook of his neck. Shifting slightly, I felt Connor tighten his grip on my thigh in response. He was still tucked against my back, though his hand had drifted during the night, his heavy palm curled warmly around my leg as his face rested against the back of my neck.

If I had wanted to fall back asleep, there was no way I could now. They were far too distracting, their bodies pressed so firmly, so warmly against mine. Soft snores escaped Murphy's mouth, though it wasn't altogether obnoxious. His hand held my own against his ribs, his grip loose but tightening when I tried to pull it away.

I was good and trapped and didn't give a damn.

A loud crash had me flinging up from the mattresses, startling the brothers awake. My eyes darted toward the door, where Chekov and one of his companions burst into the apartment. While Chekov's ass was haphazardly bandaged, the other had his head wrapped. And neither looked very happy to see us.

BSBSBSBSBSB

Again, sorry it's been so long! I hope you enjoyed this installment though! If you care to read a full novel written by me, please check it out on Amazon or Barnes and Noble; it's called Running and it's written by me! Check it out on my profile; I promise you won't be disappointed.

So, please let me know what you thought about this one; I love the boys both so I can't decide who I want to see her with! It'll probably end up being both ;D

Sierra: Ah I know, it's so hard to choose! I think I'm a bigger fan of Norman, but I just think Connor's adorable too, so idk! But I'm glad you liked it!

Golden Peaches: Thanks! Hmm, that's what I'm thinking! I hope this chapter was a good one; shows that they both want her…

LovelySpecter: haha I know, I love it! Ah, thanks! I couldn't leave Rocco out; even if she doesn't want him, I could totally see him flirting with her… Yeah, there are a lot of Connor ones; it's definitely gonna be just Murph or both. Ahaha I love the rope scene!

LittleRin26: Sorry I haven't checked it out yet! I've been so busy at work! Haha I'm so glad you like her; she's so fun to write! Ahh, I need to update WD too, ugh… so behind!

Alec1116: Thanks! I think he'll get his next ;D I wanted this to be one where she was like, oh damn, I don't know! Haha

PrinceEmbree: Thank ya! :D


	5. Self Defense

No excuses =( Sorry for the delay, but I hope this makes up for it! I love this scene! Hey, it would be awesome if you guys would check out my e-books; I've got two of them for sale on amazon! Check out my profile =D

Disclaimer: I don't own the Boondock Saints, but if I did… nummy nummy

Chapter Four: Self-Defense

_A loud crash had me flinging up from the mattresses, startling the brothers awake. My eyes darted toward the door, where Chekov and one of his companions burst into the apartment. While Chekov's ass was haphazardly bandaged, the other had his head wrapped. And neither looked very happy to see us. _

"Wake up, you fucking Irish faggots!" Chekov bellowed, his gun waving haphazardly through the air, his dark eyes wild, "I hope you finished fucking your bitch; it's the last thing you'll ever do!"

Panicked, I scrambled back toward the wall; the brothers, however, were either too dumbstruck or too hung over to move much. They watched the Russians approach, both brandishing their weapons, before Chekov landed a hard punch to Connor's temple. He dropped quickly, clutching his now bleeding forehead, and I scrambled across the mattresses to get to him.

Before I could, the other Russian – who I decided to call Vlad (kinda racist, but it was all my terrified mind could come up with at the time) – shoved me hard in the chest, dropping me back against the wall and away from both brothers. This got their attention, both eyeing me warily, but they were quickly distracted once more.

Vlad grabbed Murphy by the scruff of his bathrobe, dragging him toward the door as Connor was ushered toward the dirty toilet. Latching a set of handcuffs around one wrist, Chekov forced him to strap the other around the toilet, his head practically in the bowl.

Chest heaving, the three of us glanced at each other, waiting for something to happen. Back to the cold, brick wall, my eyes darted toward the kitchen, wondering if there was some way I could dart to it without them noticing, maybe grab a knife or something. I quickly ditched that thought; I was between both Chekov and Vlad, the pair of them toting at least one gun each. I'd have to sit it out and wait to see what they decided to do, it seemed.

"I was going to kill you. But I'm not...," Chekov growled suddenly in Connor's ear, a twisted smirk on his face as he pressed his gun to the Irishman's temple, "I'm going to kill your brother. I'm going to take him down to the dumpster and I'm going to shoot him in the head. And _then_, I'm going to come back up here and rape your woman over and over and over again and _then_ shoot her…"

Swallowing thickly, I found my legs snapping together, as though he planned on doing it then and there. My hands shook at the thought, knowing that without Connor or Murphy, I'd be… well, I'd be fucked… Both brothers struggled, their eyes snapping toward me, a snarl escaping Murphy's mouth, "Like hell you will! I'll kill you with my bare hands, you fuckin' piece o' shit!"

"You'll not touch her!" Connor growled, tugging his wrists toward him, his feet braced against the base of the toilet as he struggled to get himself free.

"Then why does she sit and wait for me?" Chekov taunted mocking, gesturing toward my frozen form, my hands clasping a pillow to my chest.

The Russian gave Connor's head a mocking pat, blowing a kiss to me, before he gestured for Vlad to haul Murphy to his feet. The darker twin struggled, noting furiously, "It was just a bar fight! You're a bunch o' fucking pussies!"

Without a word, they dragged him from the room; he turned back, pinning us both with a solemn, dark glance. And then they were gone.

Connor grunted, eyes filled with furious, unshed tears, before letting out a loud, strangled yell. In an instant, he began struggling, every vein in his body popping, letting out grunts, curses; everything under the sun. He was wild, animalistic, and I watched a moment in fascination before shaking myself.

_Then why does she sit and wait for me?_

Good. Fucking. Question.

Leaping to my feet, I ran toward Connor, dropping to my knees and lowering myself to stare at the handcuffs. They were strong, sturdy, his blood running steadily down his wrists as he fought to free himself.

"Connor, what can I do?" I questioned frantically, raking a hand through my hair, and staring at the wild-eyed blond.

"Murph!" he grunted, drawing his body back and he tried to free himself. When that didn't work, he repeatedly bashed his shoulder into the back of the toilet, hoping to break it. It was a rickety old thing; I didn't think he'd have a problem.

With a resolute nod, I grabbed his face – he stilled only momentarily – and placed a crushing kiss on his mouth, fingers twisting into his darkened, damp hair. Without a word, I sprang to my feet, dashing for the door and skidding down the hallway. Flying down the steps, I barely landed on my feet as I leapt the last four. Grunting, I ran for the exit, stopping momentarily when I spotted a fire extinguisher latched to the wall. Without a thought, I wrenched the thing from its restraints and made my way for the dumpster.

Murphy was on his knees, staring up at Chekov, his eyes darkened with hatred. None of them had caught sight of me just yet, thankfully; the extinguisher weighed heavily in my hands and I shifted it into a rather baseball-bat-like position.

"Assholes!" I screamed, my bare feet flying across the pavement, carrying me to the Russians in a flash. Murphy's brows darted high on his forehead as I swung at Chekov's chest, lefty style, an almighty yell escaping me.

He doubled over in pain, his face red, eyes wide in surprise. Before the other Russian could shoot at me, though, I shoved Chekov between him and the darker MacManus and I, my extinguisher ready and willing to beat him down.

"Finn!"

Murphy practically tackled me to the ground as, low and behold, a toilet came sailing through the air, smack dab on Chekov's back. He used his body to cover mine, panting heavily in my ear as he shielded me from the porcelain. It downed him instantly, at the same time Connor fucking MacManus dropped Vlad. A few shots went off from both Russians in surprise, but, as I peered past the tattered sleeve of Murph's robe, I could tell neither had hit Connor.

For a moment, Murph and I locked eyes, both wide with fear and surprise, before he propped himself up, hovering over me, "Y'all right, love?"

A quick mental check had me nodding; he mimicked my action and pressed a firm, quick kiss to my forehead, before we both scrambled toward Connor. He was face down on the pavement and, for a moment of sheer, blind terror, I found myself thinking that maybe they _had_ shot him.

But, as Murph turned him over, a hand to his neck, it was obvious that he had just passed out. A hand to my chest, I breathed a sigh of relief, dropping to my knees and set about trying to wake him, "Conn? Connor, c'mon, get yer ass up… It was cool an' all, but we really need ya ta wake up…"

Vlad groaned suddenly, startling Murphy and I; the blue-eyed twin raced for the heavy toilet lid, hoisting it high in the air and bringing it heavily down over Vlad. Once, twice, he beat the man over the head, sending him down to the pavement with a final, loud thud.

Silently, he ditched the lid, scrambling for a big, green paper sack and stuffing the Russians' belongings into it. Eyeing him curiously, if not a bit frantically, I queried in a sharp whisper, "What're you doin', Murphy?"

"These guys're loaded," he mused gruffly, patting down Vlad and taking what looked like a wad of hundred dollar bills from both pockets, "not lettin' that go ta waste, aye?"

Brows high on my forehead, I didn't dispute him; instead, I returned my attention to Connor, "If I have to, I'll give ya a kiss. Like fuckin' Prince Charming…" Pressing a hand to his still bleeding forehead, I glanced quickly at Murphy, "We need ta get him outta here… there's a hospital nearby, aye?"

He nodded swiftly, catching my shoulder and drawing me away from his twin. It took him a few tries, but he finally got Connor onto his shoulder, gesturing for me to gather the bag. Without a word, I did as he asked, running a hand over my face and groaning, "This is _not_ the way I planned ta spend my mornin', Murphy MacManus…"

"Me either," he snorted, grimacing under his brother's dead weight. Peering over his shoulder toward the scene we'd left behind, he glanced nervously down at me, "How much trouble are we gonna be in for this shit?"

"Not too much, I think," I replied uneasily, drawing my lower lip into my mouth as my pulse finally started to slow, "I mean, they attacked us first, right? Even last night? It was all self-defense; I think we could get away with it, ya know?"

"Aye," he muttered distractedly, ignoring the strange glances we received as we set briskly off toward the hospital, "think ya can get a hold o' Doc? He could give us a hand with that shit…" He gestured toward the bag, the stolen items; I didn't really want to get my grandda involved in what had happened, but he'd find out about it anyway. I'd rather he hear it from me and the brothers than find out I'd almost gotten killed through the news.

When we reached the hospital, it hadn't taken long to get Connor admitted. They'd taken one look at the three of us and ushered us into a trauma room. I didn't need patching up, but Murph was a bit banged up, especially after the night before. One nurse treated Connor while the other cleaned Murphy's wounds. Neither woman spoke much, but they shared long, silent glances every now and then.

It was starting to piss Murphy off; not a good idea, especially considering how high-strung he was already from our morning escapades, "Ya got somethin' ta say, then say it already… I'm tired o' this shifty eye shit…"

With a huff, the nurses finished their jobs and made for the exit. It didn't help that it was a Catholic treatment center and he'd done his fair share of cursing. Rolling my eyes, I propped my feet up on Connor's bed, watching Murphy try and calm himself, "Grandda's on his way… I called him when I went to th' bathroom… We're fucked…"

"Aye?" Murph snorted, "he's not my grandda… can't say anythin' ta me… 'Sides, you said it yerself… it was all self-defense… He'll understand."

"I hope so," I replied, rubbing my eyes with the palms of my hands, "I don't need any more shit right now… my head's killin' me…"

"C'm'ere," he muttered softly, gesturing toward his lap, his eyes surprisingly soft. I did as he asked, settling down and sighing as I leaned against his chest. His fingers drifted up, through my hair, and began to massage my scalp. Well, that did wonders for my headache… though, the fact that he pressed his lips to my temple may have helped a little bit.

We stayed like that for a while, one of his strong arms draped around my waist, my eyes shut as I enjoyed his touch. Listening to the steady rise and fall of his chest, I found myself surprisingly contented as I waited for his brother to regain consciousness.

"Why th' hell didn't ya run, Finn?" he queried suddenly, the sudden sound snapping me out of my reverie.

Glancing up at him, I stared incredulously at him, "Th' hell d'you mean? You think I'd let you an' Connor die without tryin' ta help?"

"We can take care of ourselves, love…"

Glancing toward the bed, my relief for his recovery outweighing my irritation at their need to keep me safe, I grinned, "Aye? Well, looked like ya coulda used a hand there… ta me, anyway…"

"She's delusional," Connor noted, his dark eyes tired, rolling onto his side and propping his face up with a hand, "I think she needs her head looked at…"

"I'm not th' one with a mild concussion, Mr. MacManus," I stated mocking, gesturing toward the stupid-looking white bandage tied to his head, "I can't let me two best boys take a beatin' while I run fer the hills… Just not right…"

"She's got a mean swing, Connor," Murphy noted with a teasing grin, ruffling my hair and burying his nose into my neck, nuzzling the soft skin with his scruffy chin, "shoulda seen her…"

"Sorry, I was more concerned with linin' up a toilet with a Russian," Connor snorted, his dark eyes running along my form, curled up as I was on Murphy's lap, "why don't I get ta hold a beautiful lass? I'm th' one with a mild concussion, remember?"

Rolling my eyes, I disentangled myself from a protesting Murphy and climbed onto the thin, metal bed beside Connor. He dragged me down, wrapping an arm around my waist, and rested his head on my stomach, "God, that's nice…"

Glancing, flustered, toward Murphy, I allowed a small laugh to escape me as he folded his arms over his bare chest, frowning moodily, "You had your turn, Murph…"

"Aye," Connor agreed, shoving up the hem of my shirt with his nose, pressing soft, butterfly kisses to my stomach, "now it's mine…"

Grumbling to himself, Murphy dragged the chair he'd been perched on closer to the bed, accepting my outstretched hand and pressing a kiss to the palm of it. His bright, blue eyes drifting shut, he nuzzled his face into my hand, grinning slightly to himself; in a moment, his eyes snapped open, piercing mine with surprising intensity, "_You're_ mine…"

Heart stopping, I eyed him curiously, my face flushing. Before I could respond, Connor piped up, dragging his scruffy face from my pale skin to shoot his twin an admonishing glance, "Ah, ah, brother… She's _ours_… It's not nice ta keep somethin' so pretty and so soft," he ran his tongue along my stomach, earning a gasp from me, "ta yerself…"

"Dunno, brother," Murphy squeezed my hand, regarding my breathless self with a smirk, "we don't usually share _everything_…" Everything meaning women? Was I to be an exception? Was I _okay_ with that?

Connor hummed against my skin, dark, smoldering eyes drifting up to meet mine. Glancing nervously at Murphy, I wasn't surprised to find a matching glint in his ocean eyes. Licking my lips, I quirked a brow, offering them a hesitant, sheepish smile.

Hell yes I was.

They caught my silent okay, near identical grins stretching across their handsome faces. Before either could say a word, though, good ol' Doc entered the room, "F-f-f-fuck! Connor, get yer f-f-f-face – _fuck! Ass!_ Get yer t-t-t-tongue offa my Finn!"

BSBSBSBSBSBSBSBS

Grim1989: Thank you! So glad you're enjoying it lol

X-JustALittleBitOdd-X: Heehee! Thank you! Oh, that's the way it's gonna go; I can't help it – they're just too sexy for their own good… Sorry it took so long though =/

LovelySpecter: Hehe yes! I haven't watched it in so long, I wanna watch it again =D Oh, it'll be both; I've never written anything like it but these boys are a guilty pleasure of mine… so why not both hehe

YuKiOnA-Ga: thanks!

Iforgiveyou: haha why thank you =D which was the other one you're addicted to? No, not too bad lol =D Did you check out my novel? I have another one available too now! Oh, I know, I looked back on this and was like why the HELL did I stop there! Lol

Nymphchild: Thank you! Aw I wish it did haha that'd be awesome!

Ilovemedia18: Thank you! Glad you're enjoying it!

Sunnymuffins: Woo thanks!

Sephira Vanya Estelwen: Thank you! I'm glad you think so; I love writing! Probably why I published some ebooks haha. But thank you; I really appreciate it!

Guest: Thanks! Aw, I thought he could use someone… he's such a cool guy!

Are You Afraid Yet: Haha sorry; I know, it was a horrible place to end. I thought the same thing too – me amo esta historia. I think there was a poll, but I took it down; oh I totally agree with your decision!

FABREVANS12: Thanks!

Sierra: Haha I'm sorry; it was an awful spot to leave. She'll be in their arms again pretty soon hehe ;D


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